Afrikan Feminist Gender/Queer Survivor Parent R/evolutionary Intellectual

"Nobody loves a genius child. Kill him & let his soul run wild."
Black grrls love flowers
Brooklyn Botanical Garden, July 2014

Black grrls love flowers

Brooklyn Botanical Garden, July 2014

all this magic

consuming me whole 

and tenderly mending me back together

leaving me to (re)learn and (re)imagine

ancient ways 

healing ways

ways we almost forgot

the same ways rivers and moons were made

the same ways mountains and the most delicate flowers were made

ways we’ve done known 

hurt people can heal and transform each other

I’m tired of being reduced down to my strength or anger; I’m hurting

I’ve been houseless for the last two weeks. Besides that, I’ve been going through it in other ways. I miss my daughter, and feel fucked up at the ways in which reproductive injustice intersects with capitalism and anti-blackness. A white lady can hire me to work in her home, and afford to pay two different Black womyn — one to be the nanny to her children, and me, to make sure her home is sparkly clean. But I’ve only seen my child two times in the last twelve months. I was evicted in February of this year, and have been experiencing housing insecurity since then. And have been compelled to make the choice between visiting my daughter as regularly as I want to, and using my resources for basic everyday survival — food and housing.

When my struggle to survive included engaging in acts that are deemed non-legal by the state, I was criminalized, and became yet another Black person caught up in the injustice system. But I’m just an erratic, cantankerous, belligerent, angry, unreasonable, uppity, self-righteous ass Black bitch when I talk about the real ways that interpersonal anti-Black racism is NOT unrelated to institutional manifestations.

Even in supposedly radical spaces, who really cares about Black feelings, hurt, or suffering? How dare Black folks be complex and layered. How dare Black folks hurt, and talk about our pain? How dare Black folks break out of the roles (mammy/jezebel/buck/etc.) that people impose on us? How dare we have our own shit going on under the surface? How dare we NEED care? After all, we’re supposed to infinitely be fixin’ and taking care of everybody else’s shit.


you tried to steal my discontent

and along with it

my agency and right to be free

how can you claim to see my humanity

when refuse to hold space for my pain

you scoffed because I dared to renounce the lie

that I am only my strength

you wailed because I dared to name my hurt

when you tried to reduce me back down

to one component of my being

and belittle my vulnerability

didn’t you remember

in this world

your cares and woes and feelings

matter more than me

You guys know about vampires? … You know, vampires have no reflections in a mirror? There’s this idea that monsters don’t have reflections in a mirror. And what I’ve always thought isn’t that monsters don’t have reflections in a mirror. It’s that if you want to make a human being into a monster, deny them, at the cultural level, any reflection of themselves. And growing up, I felt like a monster in some ways. I didn’t see myself reflected at all. I was like, “Yo, is something wrong with me? That the whole society seems to think that people like me don’t exist?” And part of what inspired me, was this deep desire that before I died, I would make a couple of mirrors. That I would make some mirrors so that kids like me might see themselves reflected back and might not feel so monstrous for it.

—Junot Díaz (x (via feministjewishfangirl)

(via afrofuturistaffair)